Overdue
by Night-Hunter2004
Summary: Everything in life is about choices - the ones we make, and the ones we refuse to make. Jadeite, Nephrite and Zoicite have to learn to deal with each other, and with their leader, before Endymion ever got interested in a Moon Girl.  All male story .
1. Chapter 1

The well-appointed room was dim except where the lamp glowed on the desktop. Alone – at last – Kunzite looked at the papers in front of him without really seeing them. It had been a long day.

Cadets drilled in the courtyard; the last round before the dinner hour. All the meetings were done, and once these few necessary reports were taken care of, the evening would be his. Alone. That's not quite how he'd pictured it. Zoisite should have been back by now.

He leaned back, stretching a little, and clasped his hands behind his head. A fleeting softness that might have been a smile touched his usually set expression. Knowing Zoicite, he could be into anything by now – enraptured by something lovely, dancing or partying with someone newly-met – the possibilities were endless. He was young; he thought himself immortal. He didn't yet have the duties and responsibilities of running the Academy, of trying to keep Beryl happy, nor the baggage of his chosen career keeping joy at a distance.

"And with luck, he never will." Kunzite squared his shoulders, and picked up the papers again. "Might as well get this over with."

Dinner was long over when Kunzite realized there was no noise in the building, and looked at the clock. "Oi, time goes by fast," he muttered. "And where the hell is Zoicite? I know he should have been back by lights-out." He impatiently tossed the remaining papers into his in-box and rose, pacing the room, unable to articulate the sudden feeling of fear and unhappiness descending on him.

He paused by the long window, still open, that looked out over the empty drilling grounds and the lake beyond. "Zoicite, where have you gotten off to?" he asked of no one in particular. In the stillness out of the darkness, he heard his name called, awash on a wave of pain that doubled him over.

"Kunzite!"

"Zoicite – where?" He steadied himself with a hand on the window sill, forcing his head up against the pain. "Where are you?" His head turned one way and another, seeking. And at one point, he felt sure there – there – was where he would find his friend. "I – I'm coming Zoicite. Hold on…be strong."

Forcing himself upright, he took his cloak from the door as he hurried past, his running footsteps echoing down the empty hall. In his own room, assured of his privacy, he fixed on the target, brought his mind into focus, and opened a portal. "Close – it must bring me close," he muttered, trying to block out all other thoughts, allowing the channel of pain to be his beacon. "Transcend." The ribbon from his hair fluttered to the floor in the now-dark room; no other sign remained to show his passage.

The street was, thankfully, nearly deserted as he materialized in his new location. Closed storefronts faced the broad avenue, a few still showing lights behind closed shutters or glassed windows. He turned slowly, and the pain-stream tugged at him, gentler now but whether because of his proximity or because Zoicite was losing his battle was anyone's guess. There – a small street that led off the main road, unpaved and dark. Kunzite walked toward it rapidly, his usual impatience reasserting itself. Stepping into the darkness, he moved quickly and quietly, allowing the tie between them to be his guide. Twice he stopped briefly to let others go by – armed predators of the night, dragging victims that might or might not ever awaken. Their concerns were none of his – he wanted only one thing, and that was to find Zoicite and take him home.

The last turn brought him into a cul-de-sac where solid walls and five doors faced the street. Two of them bore signs, and he dismissed those – their businesses were on the street side, and this would be merely a delivery entrance. Of the other three, one was a low affair, perhaps a storage closet. One of the others arrested his attention, and he shifted to see it with more magical means. Yes, that one was – a trap of some kind. The other showed as inert.

Kunzite's expression went a little colder. So – a trap for whom? An inexperienced boy like Zoicite? Or was he only the bait – and the trap was for the teacher, not the student? "We shall see," Kunzite said, feeling again the urgent tug on his connection.

Too quick for any watcher to interfere, he called up his dagger bolt and flung it at the door. Sparks erupted – to his sight the energy crackled across the surface and the hidden design of a ward stood out, vanishing a moment later. The door sagged on its hinges. He went over and quickly kicked the door in, feeling no residue of magic still around the doorway.

"Zoicite? Are you here?" He moved cautiously but quickly down the hallway, calling up a mage light to illuminate his way. He opened the doors to left and right as he went, feeling nothing, noting only that the tie to his friend seemed to be weakening. "Zoicite, answer me!"

The tie between them died at the same moment the crash of metal from down the hallway reached his ears. "Zoicite!" He sprinted the last few yards, instinctively knowing it was the right hand door from which the crashing sound had come. His magic hit the door a split second before he did, making him feel a little unsettled from the backwash as the door broke inward, and he staggered through and paused.

A brass pitcher lay dented on the floor next to his foot; with a water splash making puddles in the dust turning to mud on the stones. The mage light showed a small room, a pallet on the floor, and a body on the pallet that seemed so much smaller and more fragile he remembered. One had was out-flung, as if the effort of creating the sound had cost him all his strength.

"Zoicite – what happened?" Kunzite went over, kneeling down to see better. The hand he took in his own was cold – very cold. "Zoicite – I am here. I am with you." He caught his breath as he lifted the dark cover, realizing the darkness was blood, still wet. Ugly lacerations on torso and thigh suggested a real fight, with real weapons and not magic – something the boy was still poorly prepared for. Kunzite's eyes grew colder. "Who did this? Zoicite, can you hear me?"

The response was less than a whisper, but he felt the hand in his move so slightly, and it brought him back to himself. "I must get you out of here. Then we can talk."  
"No…time," Zoicite said haltingly. "Will know…you're here. Flee…please. Go." He lay panting, eyes open now, but glittering with fever and madness. "Go…GO!"

Kunzite shook his head calmly. "I won't leave you. If they come before we leave, then I will kill them, whoever they are."

"You…don't…understand," Zoicite tried again, but the effort was too much. He coughed, blood forming a gentle spray around his lips. "Please…go."

"This is nonsense," Kunzite told him, looking around quickly. He spotted another blanket, snatching it up and bundling Zoicite into it. "This is beyond my skills - I'm taking you to a healer."

He stood, the bundle in his arms making him concentrate harder, as he opened the portal for them. He was just conscious of movement as he stepped into the portal, and turned partway to deflect anyone from following them. As a result, he stumbled into his room at the academy from the portal, falling sideways, trying desperately to keep his charge from being further injured. At the edge of sight, as the portal fell in upon itself, eyes stared back at him – angry, challenging. Then the vision was gone, and Zoicite moaned softly in his arms.

"Hold fast. Help is on the way." He sent out his mental summons as he lay the boy down on his still- made bed. Suddenly at a loss, he fussed a moment with the covers, then sat down beside the body, taking his hand again. "Zoicite, what happened out there?"

Running footsteps barely paused at the door to knock, then the door opened to admit the healer and his assistant. A second assistant beckoned Kunzite away from the bed.

"Come – let them work. You'll only be in the way."

Kunzite frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, but moved to the wall, watching the healer at work.

"He's in good hands," the other assistant told him, as she stood beside him and watched her fellows. "The best."

"Will he live?"

She glanced up at the terse question, and shrugged a little. "He is young and strong, and there is still life in him – so I would think, yes. How it will affect him in the future – that is anyone's guess. But he has you."

"Me?" No mistaking the icy stare in those pale violet eyes this time. "I am not his guardian."

"You're his friend. That makes a difference." She smiled a little, turning back to watch. "His kind don't need guardians, they need people to guide them – there is a difference."

"He's one of many students here," Kunzite said, dismissing the idea. "I don't have time to guide and mentor – that's what they have each other for."

The woman healer had the audacity to laugh softly. "I see."

Kunzite controlled himself with effort; he wanted to rage, to show some kind of anger. And that, of course, was just what he must not do. Control. Self-discipline. In that sense she was right – he was the role model for all of them, and he must not show weakness. "Hmmpf." He lapsed into silence, focused on the scene in front of him.

The healer and his assistant picked up their tools and put them away, pausing to right the covers over the body. Kunzite blocked their way out.

"Will he be alright?"

The healer shrugged. "He's stable and sleeping now. He will be weak for a few days, maybe feel sick. I cannot tell if there are more injuries inside, but it seems not from what I was able to check."

Kunzite nodded slowly, moving aside. "Thank you for coming."

"Anytime, General. And a good night to you." The assistant nodded as he went out, and the woman turned to go.

"Oh," she said, turning back. "Head wound precautions, as well. We don't know if he might have hit his head when he fell…"

"Of course. Thank you." Kunzite waited for them to go out, then pulled the door shut behind him. Hearing their steps recede down the hallway, he removed his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt sleeves, and rolled them up a bit. Then he pulled over a chair, and got comfortable. It had been a long time since he'd been on an all-night watch, and he wasn't looking forward to it.


	2. Chapter 2

Kunzite appeared at breakfast looking pale and tired, a state that brought speculation from all quarters of the mess hall. He otherwise conducted himself as normal, although he excused himself earlier than usual, and if anyone noticed Zoicite was missing from breakfast, nothing was said. Kunzite took his paperwork to his quarters, leaving his aide to sort out incoming problems and contact him if anything required immediate action. Nothing did, and so it was nearly dinner time when the general put away his papers, and rose from the chair and began to change for the night meal.

"Kunzite-sama?" The sound was so soft it was like a breeze rather than a word. Bare-chested, he tossed the shirt in his hand onto another chair and came over to sit beside his charge.

"I am here, Zoicite." He picked up the hand – still cold, but no longer icy – that lay on the bed between them, holding it in both of his own. "You are safe now – you must rest and recover."

"Where – is this? Kunzite, I'm scared…" The boy tried to lift his other hand, but the effort was too much for him. He scrabbled feebly with his hand at the covers for a moment, only to relax back, panting with the effort.

"Hush, Zoicite. You are in my quarters. You are safe here." He rubbed the smaller hand between his own, surprised at, of all things, how smooth and soft it felt. "I brought you back here – do you remember?"

Zoicite nodded slightly, closing his eyes. There were deep shadows under his eyes now, aging him, as the bruises and pallor gave him an unnatural look. In the dimmer light, his fair hair was streaked with darker shades of red and gold. "How –did you find me?"

"You called me. I heard it – felt it. I knew you needed help, and I went to you." Kunzite blinked slowly as the boy's face infused with a steady flow of heat, turning crimson.

"I – I had no right, sir. I am sorry… I didn't know what to do." Zoicite turned his head away, and Kunzite, for the first time, smiled.

"You did well enough, to contact me at need. I will hardly fail you for that ability. But I am curious – why me? Why not one of your own classmates, or your own instructors?"

The blush deepened, as the boy realized his hand was being warmed by that of his general. "I – didn't think of anyone else, sir. I just – you came to mind, and I wanted – "

Kunzite smiled at that, a little sadly, and patted the hand before laying it back on the bed. "Well, I am the most visible officer in the school – and they tell me I'm memorable. Don't let it fret you. You must get well – exams are coming up."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Zoicite's eyes closed, and he sighed gently.

"Don't mention it," Kunzite said, master of himself again. He rose, pulling on the shirt and coat with practiced ease. "I'll bring you something to eat when I return. Stay in bed."

A soft mumble from the bed was all the answer he got.

1


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner was the usual rowdy affair, once it got underway. Nephrite, the newest of the instructors at the academy, took his place next to Kunzite and smiled, shaking his head.

"You wonder that we haven't tired them out more than this, during their school day," he said conversationally. "Was it like this when you were in school?"

"I learned my arts in the field," Kunzite told him, pouring wine for both of them. "School was for the wealthy. Although I dare say I've made up for it since I was hired on here."

"I dare say," Nephrite agreed. "Well, there's that scamp Jadite. Where's your protégé – what's his name, Zoicite?"

"A bit indisposed, actually," Kunzite hid a smile as the young man Nephrite referred to managed to swipe both food and drink from his fellows, without them noticing. "I might like your help with something. Your magic is pretty good, I believe."

Nephrite looked over, interested. "It's not been tested to breaking, but so far, I'm holding my own."

"Excellent. Come see me in about an hour, and we'll talk." Kunzite rose from the table, unnoticed by the cadets at the tables below, and nodded politely to the other officers as he left the room.

"How odd," Nephrite said, sipping his wine again. His curiosity was sharp, but his own charge was misbehaving in the cutest way – he could not resist watching, and laughing along with the others. By the time the boys were done clowning and had cleaned up their messes, Nephrite drained his glass for the final time, and rose, heading up to his meeting with the youngest General in the history of the academy.

"So, you're saying it was a trap for – you, or someone, and that the boy here just ran into it?" Nephrite looked down to see Zoicite scowling at him for the comment, but just smiled to himself.

"I said it looks that way. There is always a chance that Zoicite was also a target – he does tend to annoy people at times."

"Oh yes, spoiled – everyone says so," Nephrite said, with a wink to his superior officer. Zoicite grumbled softly, still unable to rise or there would likely have been a fight on the spot. "You don't want to encourage that, Kunzite – the fact is, we are going to need the strongest we can get, not crybabies."

Kunzite looked at him, and then down at Zoicite who was mute but red-faced with anger. "Oh, I think he'll do fine. It's experience he lacks, not courage. He's a little reckless, and ends up in bad spots from time to time. But when the crunch comes, I think he'll do fine."

Nephrite looked between them and shrugged. "Fine, your call. Now, what are we going to do about this – trap business?"

"Well, I had a thought," Kunzite said, motioning him away from the bed and over to his worktable in the corner. "If we go here, and search this area magically, we should find something – traces that will lead us to whoever is behind this. I don't feel safe leaving someone like this out where they can prey on just anyone. You and I can take care of ourselves."

"You want to go tonight?"

Kunzite nodded. "Best take them off guard, if we can."

Nephrite looked at his uniform, which was gold and white, and shook his head. "Let me run and change, and I'll be right back. This would stand out like a damned torch."

"You're right, it would," Kunzite looked down at his similar attire. "You go change, and I'll change while you're gone. We can go as soon as you get back." He was already unbuttoning the jacket when Nephrite went out, shutting the door behind him.

Kunzite pulled a dark grey field uniform on, and a grey cloak over it. He glanced over, expecting Zoicite had fallen asleep, but the boy was watching him with fascination.

"Zoicite, is something wrong?" Kunzite moved closer to the boy as he fussed with his cuffs a bit.

"No – not with you, anyway. Where does that guy get off calling me spoiled?"

Kunzite tried not to smile at the angry pout. "He just hasn't known you enough to form a better opinion, that's all. Just do what you're supposed to, and ignore things like that. One day you'll be our age, and you can pick on the younger kids like he does you."

"I'm not a coward," Zoicite sulked. Kunzite paused, then went over and sat down on the bed.

"Zoicite, listen to me. He was baiting you - teasing. He doesn't really mean it. You are young, but you must learn to know when people mean what they say, and when they are just trying to get a rise out of you. Sometimes – often, in fact – you might find yourself being friends with someone like that once you know them more."

He reached over, smoothing down a ruffled spot in Zoicite's hair. "He's good with magic, and good with reading people. It makes him annoying at times, as you saw. But it also means he could teach you a great deal, if you let him. Just try to not take it to heart, okay?"

Zoicite frowned, but sighed. "I guess."

"Good lad," Kunzite told him, rising just as Nephrite came in without knocking. "All set?" he asked, strapping on his "business" sword.

"Let's go," Nephrite said with a nod. "I have an urge to be – reckless."

Kunzite raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing, only motioned him to the far corner of the room. Raising hands palm-to-palm, they appeared to slowly shut out the rest of the room. Kunzite's voice was soft, but the loud crack of their palms meeting, coupled with ozone and silence, told Zoicite that they had gone.

"You'd better come back to me, Kunzite," the boy said into his pillow as he rolled to one side stiffly. "With him or without him. In fact, he'd better not come back without you…"


End file.
